


Mummy and Daddy's Little Boy

by LokisLilButt



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Bedwetting, Breastfeeding, Dummies, F/F, F/M, Infantilism, Multi, nappies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:32:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1683509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokisLilButt/pseuds/LokisLilButt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock finally gets to live the childhood he never had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock woke slowly, huffing as he was greeted to darkness. Wonderful. He could smell somehing sweet, and he could move his hands and feet. His hands grabbed to bars, and he began to panic. Prison? What had he done this time?

Soon enough, after feeling over the bars, listening to the sounds of it, (Wood. What prison would have wooden cell doors?) a door opened. And closed. There was a sound of gentle feet on carpet, and his blindfold was taken off. It took Sherlock a few moments to adjust to the light, but when he did, he couldn't believe his eyes. He was actually in a cot. An adult sized cot. And everything in the room that he was in was made for babies but adult sized. Shelves of nappies, onesises, a changing table, a potty, but there was also baby things. Bottles, dummies, toys for newborns, little blankets, and a rocking chair in the corner.

_What the hell was he wearing?!_

He looked down, groaning softly. A onesie, with little stars on it. A crinkle confirmed that there was a nappy under it. 

The woman who had taken his blindfold off had a kind face, beautiful hair, and hazel eyes. Anthea. Mycroft was involved in this, then. She leaned down to gently tickle at Sherlock's cheek, cooing gently. "Has baby woken up? Is he ready for a bottle?" She lifted Sherlock up into her arms. You had to be strong to be Mycroft's PA. She brought him over to the rocking chair, cradling him properly. "Baby will get a proper nipple when he's trusted. Mummy has to wait until her hormone enhancers start to work, too. So she can produce milk for little baby Sherlock." She pressed a kiss to Sherlock's forehead, checking the temperature of a baby's bottle filled with milk on her wrist, before puting the rubber teat in his mouth.

Sherlock took the bottle after a short thought, knowing that Mycroft most likely had security everywhere, and that he wasn't getting out. He suckled gently, and then began to frown. The formula was... Savoury in a way. Rohypnol. Damn Mycroft. He had probably put laxatives and diuretics in it, too. Anthea rocked slowly as Sherlock drained the bottle, until there wasn't a drop left. She put Sherlock's head over her shoulder, and patted his back and rubbed it, until he had burped three times and spat up some milk. Anthea unbuttoned his onsie, and put him back in the cot. Sherlock yawned, stretched out, suckling on a dummy given to him. A teddy was placed in his arms, and he drifted off to sleep again. Mycroft walked into the room half way through Sherlock's nap, and gently stroked his hair, tucking a blanket around the younger. He was going to treat him like his own son.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock hated the feeling of wetness from the waist down. You could never get comfortable. So when he woke, he tried desperately to get the nappy off. With even the slightest movement, either urine or feces slipped into his crack. The rohypnol was still in his body, making him act just like a baby. He sniffled, before bawling, getting Mycroft and Anthea's attention. They both came in at the same time, and Mycroft was the one to lift him into the changing mat. 

"Good morning, my little boy. Did you have a good sleep? I bet you did." Mycroft was becoming a full on father to him already. He gently rubbed at Sherlock's stomach, and waited until Sherlock had very audibly emptied his bowels again, before taking his nappy off. 

Sherlock sighed in relief to the cool air, wiggling his bum around. Mycroft held his legs still by grabbing them at the ankles. He pushed the old nappy to one side, and powdered up a new one. He wiped Sherlock off with baby wipes, putting them in the nappy and tying it up in the nappy bag. He slipped the new nappy, tying it up. "Good boy." Mycroft smiled, and carried him through to the kitchen. He put him down in an adult sized baby chair, strapping him in.

Sherlock immediately grabbed for Anthea's plate, full with bacon and toast and mushrooms and eggs and black pudding. Constantly emptying his bowels was making him hungry. Anthea tutted and pushed her breakfast away. "No, no." She tapped Sherlock's wrist, and stuck a bottle in his mouth. He swallowed all of it, with the familiar taste of drugs leaving him in the baby-like state. He threw the bottle to the floor and reached out to grab at some bacon. Anthea tapped his wrist again, and got up, carrying Sherlock to the living room. "Mycroft, just you eat the rest of it all.' She said to him, sighing gently and settling down in Mycroft's chair. She undid her pyjama shirt, and unhooked her bra from the cup. She had been buying nursing bras. She let her breast hang for a moment, before helping Sherlock to latch on. 

Of course, there was no milk, but Sherlock still suckled, head rested against her arm, wetting his nappy as he sat in her lap. Anthea stopped, and praised him for going so easily. "Good boy!" She kissed his forehead, placing a hand in his nappy. It got wet as she took ahold of Sherlock's cock, placing her thumb over the tip of his cock and stopping the almost neverending flow. "Ah, ah. We don't want you using all your wee-wee in one go. We'll get you on the potty later on today. You'll just have to hold it in until then."


	3. Chapter 3

"Myc..." Anthea mumbled, rolling over in their bed to wrap her arms around him. "Do you hear that?"

Mycroft went silent. There was the sound of Sherlock groaning loudly, in between sounds of strain. "Sherlock. Bring the first aid kit, he could have got his wrist stuck in the cot." He got up, wrapped his dressing gown around him, threw Anthea hers, and rushed to the nursery. He flicked on the light, holding his nose. "Anthea! Bring air freshener, too!"

Sherlock lay, literally pooped out, shaking with a pale face. Diarrhea. He whined softly, and there was a very audible sound of him passing his bowels into an already full nappy. 

"Oh, Sherlock... Come here... You should have told us that your tummy was sore." Mycroft lifted him into his arms, and carried him to the bathroom, placing Sherlock on the toilet and taking his nappy off. It was a mess, Sherlock was a mess. He started to run the taps of the bath, gently rubbing Sherlock's tummy. "Poor baby." He cooed.

After a bubble bath, and a few more trips to the toilet, Sherlock was curled between Mummy and Daddy, sleeping peacefully with a new nappy on. He would stretch out, even wrap his fingers around Anthea's finger, happy with his new family.


End file.
